Graduation

As the recipient of this honorary 2-year doctorate in refrigeration management, I want to explain the path that led me to this podium today. It was neither an easy road, nor one that was particularly arduous either. Kind of a middle-of-the-road road. But it was a road that got me here nonetheless. Route 28 to be exact. Trust me, it’s faster than the thruway. But anyway, it’s kind of amazing I was offered to speak here, because I’m just 25, and usually, honorary degree folks are on death’s door. I mean, they’re usually coughing up blood, puss and scholarly advice. But I’m 25 and healthy as a horse. That’s younger and healthier than even most of you are. But I believe, and I think you should too, that the youth are your future. So really, please, please listen to this advice, as the generation that is going after you and will forge the road that perhaps, if you’re lucky, your great-grandchildren will walk upon with tremendously cushy space boots. It’s universally acknowledged that no one remembers or hears their graduation’s keynote speaker or the speech they give (sometimes due to heavy medication, other times because sound technicians are probably the most poorly trained electronics folks in the business, but let’s be magnanimous here–refrigerators are king, it doesn’t mean we should take pokes at the little guys and their laughably puny microphones). So back to y’all probably forgetting my speech–I’m not going to claim that my speech will be memorable or any different from all the other speeches long forgotten. And to assure you of that, I will ask you what all honorary doctorate recipients ask: just remember this one piece of advice that I give you. You can forget everything else I say. In fact, it would be preferable, as you have enough to be getting on with, and ice makers are a bastard to fix on their own without worrying about remembering this entire speech, word for word. So this is the advice: Wait. Are you really listening? Okay.

Here is my advice: Don’t sweat the small stuff.

You might say to yourself, “Duh. I don’t worry about the small things in life–I look big picture, and get the job done. That’s how I was able to get through 1,500 hours of on-the-job training, even while half my fingers on my right hand were broken during that unfortunate touch-synchronized-swimming accident.”

But you have misinterpreted me already. Okay, that is a good lesson, and I’m sorry about your fingers. But seriously. During the five minutes of studying up I did on exactly what a refrigeration specialist is in order to write this speech, I learned that: “When your business depends on keeping goods at just the right temperature, even a single degree can mean the difference between success and failure.” This means, you can’t let those tiny plastic containers of olives at the back of the third shelf on the refrigerator sweat. They need to be kept at the perfect temperature. Otherwise, you have failed. Think of the power you wield–you are all like tiny gods in control of the weather in a tiny atmosphere of food and baking soda. You make frost, and wind, and create a crisp day, probably like a day sometime in the beginning of October, but in a Kenmore. So don’t fuck up. Don’t let the small stuff sweat–because with the tiniest surface areas, they are more susceptible to tiny variations in temperature. And also, no one–I mean no one–likes limp lettuce.

So now, I would like to extend my genuine congratulations to you and your families and friends for completing your certificate in the HVAC cooling program. You may not have truly heard all I had to say, but I have confidence that this speech got through to you all. It will never get freezer burned, or make a soupy mess at the bottom of your hearts. That’s a little refrigeration humor for you. I’m so delighted and thank the trustees of the school for allowing me to speak to you today. During this online ceremony. The text of this speech is provided above. As it was provided to you, during the emailed ceremony.